Mixing With A Malfoy
by Dusked
Summary: Without knowing she had, she'd stepped back a few steps, her throat suddenly thick and dry. But what he said only made her want to find out. She couldn't believe she was going to ask, but nonetheless, she whispered, "Then explain to me who Lucius Malfoy is." She wants him, but should she be mixing with a Malfoy? AU-EWE. Lucius x Hermione, Romance/Hurt-Comfort. Smut.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

Ever since reading some Lucius/Hermione fanfiction recently, it's given me inspiration to write another one of my own — a little longer — as I do enjoy writing this pairing, and Hermione with an older gentleman.

Plus, this idea came to me a few days ago. Well, the beginning.. anyway, I felt that if I did not write this, then continuing on with my current Draco/Hermione would be put on hold. Which, unfortunately, chapter two is quite hard to fit together smoothly, and I've been caught up with my course work, so it will be a while before the next update.

Thank you to my beta: **_RoseWeasley3_**

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**DISCLAIMER: **The rights to _Harry Potter _are in the ownership of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfic has only been written for fun, and other readers/writers entertainment.

**RATING: **M+/NC-17.

**WARNING(S): **Strong, graphic sexual content and themes, with some explicit profanity. **If you are uncomfortable reading things of this nature, then please do not read on, or skip over.**

**EXTRA NOTES: **This will be a short, not very serious fic — just wanted it to be a bit of fun. It is completely AU, EWE, and Post-Hogwarts. Concerning the characters, I have only written Lucius once, and still learning to grasp him, so bear with me if he is slightly OOC. With others, I hope they are also portrayed as closely as J.K did. If not, apologies.

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**_MIXING WITH A MALFOY_**

**_By: Dusked_**

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**June, 2006**

"Oh, darling, honestly — if you're to impress the man, you're going to need something a little more tasteful than this cheap rock you think is Sapphire."

Blushing furiously at the elder witch's mild disdain, Hermione held the gold-chained necklace between her fingers, which admittedly, she had bought from a second-hand Muggle charity shop; it was a good price for a piece of jewellery that originated from the twentieth century. She thought the blue, gem pendant would style well with the gown she'd picked out. "It's not _that _bad. I doubt he'll notice."

"Please," she replied wearily with a roll of her eyes, inspecting her dark, midnight blue painted nails. "I was married to the man for nearly two decades, known him for almost three. What he would not stand for was a woman who did not dress accordingly, who did not acquire an elegance that she could exude into her clothing, jewellery, but mostly, into her being entirely." Taking the necklace in her hand, and with a sharp tug, it snapped away from Hermione's neck. She then dangled it in front of the younger witch's face. "Wear this and you will not stand a chance, my dear."

She nursed the sting on her skin that the friction of the necklace had left behind, wincing as a red mark started to appear. "What am I supposed to do exactly? Money isn't pouring from my pockets. You know, you could just lend me one of yours."

Narcissa threw her head back and laughed, the sound oddly musical as it fluttered from her plump, ruby lips. "You may have helped saving the wizarding world, including my son, with your two companions, to which I am always grateful and owe you a debt, and I am trying to repay that debt right now by helping you. However, you're still a Muggle-born. If I offered you my cherished, expensive trinkets, then I'd have to avoid soiling myself when you returned them by burning them."

Such a comment would've hurt Hermione, but after living through a war, and receiving a lot worse, it was easily brushed off. After all, she'd befriended — well, become an acquaintance of the Lady Malfoy for quite a while now, after the older witch had discovered Hermione's attraction to her ex-husband, Lucius.

It seemed bloody ridiculous to be asking for help of an enemy for attire advice for tonight's Malfoy ball, but even more so for developing a crush on their former spouse!

"You won't give me some jewellery, but you're willing to allow me your ex-husband?" she huffed a laugh. "That doesn't make any sense."

Her fingers tidied a few stray curls that had escaped from her side-bun. "Why, of course." She smiled, only a little, and cocked her head to side side. "I am already a well-respected woman and I do not harbour any feelings towards the man anymore, so I shall step aside and let life take its natural course. I may not love Lucius, but I care for him still, and he deserves to be happy after suffering a life of regrets and grief — even if it is with _you._"

It was surreal to hear that. Hermione thought she might be an exception from Narcissa's prejudice opinion of Muggle-borns, she wasn't really sure. She didn't use the term Mudblood, and although she had a cold attitude and was usually quite impolite and unpleasant, she knew that was more her personality than how she'd been raised than anything else.

Biting her lip, she murmured, "But he hates me."

"Stupidity doesn't suit you, Granger, as you should know." She turned and glided over to a table with a glass of white wine. "He takes a dislike towards you – more so to the fact that you're Muggle-born, and less to you as a person." After sipping at the sparkling drink, she dapped her lips with a napkin before continuing, mouth set in a firm pout. "Besides being incredibly bothersome, you are strong character, and are able to fight for yourself and others. I can see that Lucius admires that in you, which is why he dislikes you so. You possess the strength he desires to secure in himself."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" she asked, finding it difficult for Narcssia's words to sink in.

She smirked over the rim of her glass. "You can believe whatever you wish, but what I say is a hundred percent true. Who knows? If tonight is successful, he may just tell you that himself – you'll just have to wait and see."

...

With the shade of dark, forest green, her dress pooled around her feet, the straps twisted in loose knots over her shoulders.

_Gods, _why had she thought she'd be able to do this?

She allowed a trembling breath to slip from her plum-glossed lips, hands twiddling the silk fabric of her silk dress, which would cause a few creases. Right now, however, that was the last thing on her mind, what with the Malfoy family standing a few metres away from her, Lucius the closest.

Not much had changed in the Manor, from what she could remember. Still dark and dreary, even with the candles and lights, and even just standing at the front entrance was enough to make her stomach plummet with trepidation.

Thankfully, tonight's ball hadn't been held in the god-awful room where she'd been tortured, which helped loosen just a tiny knot of the anxiety she was feeling. It was held in an open hall, and was decorated beautifully; a crystal and diamond chandelier hung from the tall ceiling, the dim lighting casting a faint glow over the room, and as it hit the many windows that surrounded her, and outside into the garden — something that, from the spot where she was standing, looked as though it had been treated with just as much care as inside, from the carefully trimmed rosebushes to the neatly branched archways — it gave Hermione an exquisite view of the night.

Who had made sure of all that, she didn't know. She had the suspicion it might've been Draco, as out of all them all, his mind-set had altered positively, after undergoing the effects of the war, he had a clean sweep, removing the tainted influences. But what did Lucius think about this? Even more, how did he feel about Hermione being invited?

Lucius hadn't changed much, either. His hair was as long and luscious as ever, his serpent cane clasped in a tight fist, and as he spoke, she could see that his lips were compressed, clenched, as if he didn't want to be here and exchange pleasantries with anybody but the purebloods that stepped across the marble floor into his ancestral home.

And as though he had sensed it, his eyes darted to hers.

Even with the distance, his grey-silvery eyes burned, an intense fire smouldering with them. A hot flush started to cloud over her cheeks and neck, disappearing down into the valley of her breasts, and he watched as it did — as she grew increasingly flustered — one of his eyebrows rising at the low-cut gown.

_Okay, just calm down, Hermione, _she thought to herself, straightening out her dress and inhaling deeply through her nose. _You helped defeat a Dark Lord at the age of eighteen, so this is child's play compared to that. You can do this._

She grabbed another glass of rich, red Goblin's wine from a passing waiter and downed half of it in one go, hissing through her teeth as the sharp liquid hit the back of her throat. All the drinks in the wizarding world couldn't calm her nerves; and a cold sweat began to gather at the base of her spine, threatening to dampen the fabric of her gown.

_I need air._

Finding the balcony fairly quickly, she leant against the railings, letting the brisk breeze ghost over her red-tinted flesh. Anxiety pumped through her bloodstream, the pulse in her wrists beating too fast, and her hands shook uncontrollably, causing her nails to scrape across the metal. _Bloody hell, Granger, pull yourself together!_

A shadow and sudden warmth curtained over her from behind. She tensed. "Ah, Miss Granger, are you sure you're of the legal age to be drinking?"

"Er, yes," she stuttered over her words, suppressing a gasp as she turned to face him. Much more handsome up close, indeed — only few wrinkles webbed his skin, which was quite impressive for a man in his fifties now, though a tired shade of blue rimmed his eyes, and he was slightly paler than usual which was probably from extreme stress, she guessed, considering the way the vein in his temple twitched. Swallowing, she gripped the glass tighter, hoping to keep it from slipping out of her clammy fingers and shattering against stone like she was sure her dignity would at any moment. "I turn twenty-seven a few months ago, in fact."

"Twenty-seven?" he hummed, looking her up and down. His finger tapped against the head of his cane. "With hair that bears a horrible resemblance to your twelve-year old self, and your poor attempt at dressing as an adult, I'd say otherwise."

Her mouth dropped. _You bastard!_

Crossing her arms, angry blotches of red smeared her cheeks. "As charming as ever, Mister Malfoy," she growled; she'd known he had allure and was a womaniser via his ex-wife, but that didn't appear true from his rude attitude. She shouldn't have bothered to come. "What are you doing outside? This is your ball, after all."

"Ah, that's where you're mistaken." His cane swung up and solidly blocked her attempts to brush past. "I had nothing to do with this ridiculous gathering — that was all my son's and my late wife's doing. Involving myself in their plans was no wish of mine, nor was my attendance. I was forced, you see, for a reason I am yet to find out, but I cannot help but think it connects to you. Why else would the _brightest witch of our age _be invited without the company of the two golden boys?"

Harry and Ron hadn't been invited because Narcissa had advised it was not the best idea, as if they had been, they would've been glued to her side most of the night, killing the chance to speak to Lucius alone. They knew of her attractions towards the man, and weren't all that pleased to say the least, but respected her individuality and the fact that she was a grown woman, able to act upon her own decisions.

Her nostrils flared slightly. "If I knew what kind of scheme your family has laid out in front of us, you'd be the very first one I'd tell," she said as confidently as she could. "Unfortunately, though, I've no clue. So, if you'd excuse me, I'd like to take my leave —"

"Why?"

Shrugging, "Because I'm tired, and it's been a long night —"

"No, not that," he interrupted smoothly, his head titled to the side, which was eerily similar to the way Narcissa did it. "Why would _I _be the first one you informed? Isn't it your common Gryffindor ways to leave this situation to unfold? To fool, sabotage, or purely humiliate a Slytherin... I trust that is how tonight will end, wouldn't you agree?"

_Crap. _It was all a lie, but he'd obviously pick up on that, wouldn't he?

She would've improvised, but ignored that slip-up, as a hot fury boiled her veins, near enough crackling the tips of her hair. "You honestly believe I'd want to sink to your level and hurt people's feelings solely for one's entertainment? Even if it were to a Slytherin, I'd never do such a barbaric, insensitive thing!"

"My my, Miss Granger," he smirked, arching his eyebrow; that bloody gleam in his eye showed just how much he enjoyed riling her up. "It seems you have yourself a little temperament problem."

"I do _not _have a temperament problem!"

Snapping her mouth shut from her exclamation, she held back as his eyebrow rose further. "No?" he mused. "If I recall correctly, it was you who happened to give my son a bloodied, broken nose and black eye not so long ago."

Okay, he had a point there, but that had been Draco's fault as he'd provoked her. Just knowing he'd inherited his father's traits of arrogance and a condemning nature had angered her — now, though he still was partly those things, he'd toned it down.

She sneered. "That was your son's fault, sir, just as it was mine."

"Making faces now, are we, Miss Granger? Did you learn these ill-manners from your parents?"

That killed the next words on her lips. _How dare he! _He knew about the issue between her parents and herself; it had been slapped on the front page of all well-known wizard newspapers. _Hermione Granger, not so much a good girl after all? _After the war, she had flown to Australia and reversed the Obliviation spell she had cast on her parents, expecting everything to go back to normal. But it hadn't. Her parents had lost control, shouting and screaming and calling hell out of her for trying to protect them, and throwing her out because of her "stupidity". She'd cried for months — and every now and again she did from the comfort of her bedroom — and she didn't know where they would allow her back into their lives.

Shaking her head, the angry brimmed over again, her fists shaking at her sides. "And did _yours _teach you about hypocrisy?" She threw her hands up, a rumble clawing up from her chest and burst from her mouth. "_God, _you're still a rotten bastard! One thought being thrown into Azkaban for five years might've made you reflect on some things!"

His eyes immediately hardened, his face dropping. _That _topic shouldn't have been mentioned. "Do _not _speak of what you do not understand."

"Oh, and what _is there _to understand?"

"Those five years — those one thousand, eight hundred and twenty-six days — were the worst of my existence," he snarled softly, his tone dangerously furious. Though, what surprised her most was his accuracy of how many days he'd spent locked up. "Of course I reflected on myself, you ignorant, petulant little child. It was the only thing to do, other than preventing the near inevitable fate of losing my sanity. I saw what I was. I see what I am. So don't you dare confront me thinking you know me, when you do not know me at all."

Well, she hadn't been prepared for that. Without knowing she had, she'd stepped back a few steps, her throat suddenly thick and dry. But what he said only made her want to find out. She couldn't believe she was going to ask, but nonetheless, she whispered, "Then explain to me who Lucius Malfoy is."

Eyes narrowing, "He is not someone you would be pleased to know."

It was crossing hazardous territory, but if she wanted something to happen between them, she had to start somewhere, didn't she? Even if it would end with her being cursed with an Unforgivable. She paused before saying, "And what if he is?"

"Then, Miss Granger, if you know who he really is, there is no going back."

Despite herself, a slight smile curved her lips. "I'll take my chances."

He reached up then, slowly, the silhouette of his hand almost hard to see in the darkness. A few minutes passed, the waiting so painful that she gasped softly when he finally touched her, against her cheek, and he dragged it down to her neck; his palm soft, and oddly, quite cold along her skin, but it was a good feeling — exquisite, even.

His head moved closer, until strands of his hair brushed along her face. Oh God, he was going to kiss her! She tried to calm her nerves by shutting her eyes, concentrating on the shallow breaths he released. Just as his nose barely touched hers, he stopped, and flinched, as if suddenly realising exactly what he was doing. As he blinked, she noticed his pupils were dilated and heavy with scalding lust, and he opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again.

And then without a word, he spun on his heel and marched back inside, leaving her with wide-eyes and an ache in her chest, as a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding escaped her lips.

**~.~**

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First chapter for you all. This will only be a short story, about five chapters. Again, updates might be quite slow, what with other fanfics, my writing course, and trying to sort out how I'm going to plan a novel idea of mine.

This fic is just a bit of fun, nothing serious.


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:  
**

I've thought of four or five new one-shots, most of which are Dramione, and one Teddy/Lily Luna. Some are just smutty, plotless fun, whereas other have a more serious element which I hope will work well.

At the moment, I've only briefly written out the plan, but will try and get to the writing stage as soon as possible, as I am excited!

Also, thank you **all of those **who have read/reviewed/favourited/alerted this fanfic, and have stuck with it! Thank you for your patience!

_Note_: I really struggled with this chapter, as Hermione continued to go out-of-character. I've tried my best to keep her in character, but I apologise if it just hasn't worked. Don't worry, I'm cringing just as much as you all are. Plus, this chapter is **unbeta'd, **as I attempted to edit myself.

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_**CHAPTER TWO** _

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After last night's events, Hermione couldn't rid the memory of she and Lucius nearly kissing from her mind, and it didn't help that she'd been burdened with a sex dream of him. His low, purring lure, blended with the feel of his calloused hands shaping every inch of her skin, was enough to reduce her to a sweaty, convulsing mess.

Her attraction towards him had revealed itself unexpectedly, during moments over a nine-year period, until the crush hit full force at the seventh Battle of Hogwarts anniversary celebrations.

After victorious triumph over Lord Voldemort, along with his little gang of Death-Eaters flung in the dingy cells of Azkaban, she focused on the important things she'd missed out on, starting with her N.E.W.T's — which she'd passed with flying colours — and embarked on searching for a job. Many interviews later, she'd been accepted into a Ministry job for_ The Department of International Support and Rights for Muggle-borns. _The cooperation received an immense quantity of money as donation, which shockingly happened only few days into her work. Later on, she'd found out Lucius, still within prison, had ordered Narcissa to fund their work; it was the first alter of her judgement towards him. _  
_

Unfortunately, dating Ron hadn't been what they'd both expected. He'd skipped a second chance at taking his final exams, and by the side of Harry, had taken the career route of an Auror. Like any girlfriend, she'd been pleased, truly, as it was obviously a dream of his, but with Hermione out late completing paperwork, and him out for nearly three nights a week hunting criminals, it meant less time together.

At the beginning, it had been wonderful. A free, caring relationship that for her was enough to lose their virginities to each other, which no, she did not regret. Not one bit. A night filled with tender kisses, and shy, whispered words on both ends that she'd never experienced with any other man — not with Krum, from his awkward fumbling, or Cormac Mclaggen's wet, sloppy snogs — and she wanted to thank him for allowing her a beautiful memory she'd always remember, and although it had happened only several more times, she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

It wasn't that she hadn't loved him. She thought she did when they'd shared that passionate — what felt like a love-filled — kiss, but she narrowed it down to being an inexperienced teenager, and too busy fighting for the wizarding world at the time. As their relationship dulled out into pointless arguments and sleeping in separate rooms, they'd realised maybe what they'd previously though wasn't necessarily a mistake, but a small lapse of madness.

On the ultimatum, they separated and moved on after ten months.

Now, years later, Ron was happily married to Padma Patil with two children, whereas Hermione had not dated. She refused the men who tried to strike up a conversation that would've potentially led onto something else, but since then, her confidence to get back out in the field had simmered down, and by twenty-five, she felt tied down, putting more stress on her job, and the reason she'd been unenthusiastic to attend the traditional, seventh anniversary, now alone.

With a stern talking to, she'd been forced to go, embarrassed that Ginny and Harry were somewhat her partners for the evening, who should've gone by themselves than be saddled with Hermione. They'd stayed by her side the entire event, despite her persistent encouragement to at least share the remaining time, (now being parents, time alone was sparse), and once they'd relented, her attention went elsewhere...

...and landed on Lucius Malfoy, freed from Azkaban a year earlier, and had just so happened to appear.

He hid in the dark corners of the hall, however, the reason for another build-up towards being completely infatuated with him; she guessed that, being an ex-follower of Riddle and former prisoner, he preferred to hide himself to avoid bad attention, or a few hexes for daring to show his face. She'd felt pity, downhearted and a little guilty for loathing his guts — maybe there was an unknown side to him, his deepest, most vulnerable secrets locked away.

After that, she thought she'd try to see if anything could happen between them, despite it should've been something forbidden, given their ages, backgrounds and pasts. Oh well.

The first step to aid her in her mapped out plan for the next anniversary, Ginny had supplied her with a red, sequined knee-length dress, a silk bow tied at the straight cut trim — given her lack of fashion sense — and cast a permanent sticking charm to her French twisted bun, held by a ruby encrusted barrette clip. Her fiery-head friend was fully confident this would not only drop the jaws of all men, but also the silver-tongued serpent. As the night went on, and drew to a close, he had not passed a single glance in her direction.

From the shot to the chest, she'd felt less determined to continue the conquest, but when Narcissa Malfoy had approached her, offering to help her out, she'd taken that risk.

**~.~**

"Oh, Lucius, you stupid man," Narcissa drawled to herself, rolling her eyes and then turned to Hermione. "You shouldn't have let him run away like that."

Stirring her cup of green tea, bound to be cold now, she shrugged, "I couldn't exactly stop him."

It was difficult to not snap at the elder witch, what with her continuous insults and hard criticism for how Hermione had failed to achieve the simplest of tasks, and at certain points, she felt a twinge of regret at agreeing to work with this crafty ploy she'd created.

She'd thought her interest in Lucius would've caused a raging fit of jealously, but it hadn't, as she'd recently found new love with Thomas, a Pureblood whom was a Lord of Ainsley Court, sheltered in the secluded area of Windsor; he had never believed in the warped, hypnotic beliefs of superiority, and perhaps that attitude was beginning to rub off on Narcissa, resulting in her odd change of frame of mind towards Hermione. She seemed content in this relationship, as without realising and in a very unlikely way, a naughty smile would frame her mouth. She knew that look — she did it herself.

"That is where you're wrong again." Sipping at her tea daintily and placing it back in the saucer, she cleared her throat, licking at her dark," carmine-pink lips. "If a gentleman — which is exactly what Lucius is — nearly kissed you, then it is a part of good manners for him to finish it, and _not _run off. You need to stand your ground, girl. Be spontaneous, grab him by the collar, and get the job done yourself." She smirked, eyes drifting off. "Men aren't the only ones with control."

Swallowing, she murmured warily, "What's that supposed to mean?"

The corner of her lips turned up in a small smirk, and she looked off into the distance against, as if she was revisiting a memory. "Well, when Lucius proposed to me for the first time, I said no." At the rise of Hermione's eyebrows, she continued, "He asked too soon, and at the time, he was ugly with self-indulgence, an ignorant mind, and the dismissal of other's feelings — particularly mine, as when I refused his marriage offer, he was quite displeased."

"You see, it was at the time of disowning my sister. I was upset, despite people believing the opposite; she was my flesh and blood, my older sibling, and I looked up to her. In my distress, I sought for Lucius' comfort, but he did not cast me a single glance. He thought me too emotional, and as a man of many expectations, a woman on his arm that could not contain herself wasn't something a Malfoy needed, or wanted, for that matter."

A curl of hair had escaped her side-bun, and she charmed it back into place, not removing her stare from the table. "I was heartbroken, as I did love him — I only wanted to test his love for me. With that rejection, I felt as if he'd never felt anything towards me, until I started to finally move on. He came back, declaring his utter devotion towards me, profusely apologising for the pain he'd caused," she said, and Hermione tried not to cringe at the slight smugness in her tone, but that was a quirk of hers. "Unfortunately for him, I declined again."

Hermione held back an outraged sputter, nearly choking on her tea. "Why would you do that?" she exclaimed quietly. "He came back to you. Isn't that what you had wanted?"

"Of course it was, but it all comes back to what this whole topic is about: control." She rolled her eyes. "Have you really not learnt anything about life? Surely, considering what you've been through at a young age, it would've been something of a sense of education."

Shrugging, her face heated. "Apparently not."

"It was simple. I kept him at a distance, metaphorically speaking. Whenever he become too close, I would take a step back, and it remained that way for some time. A continuous game of cat and mouse." She smirked and finally looked at Hermione. "It worked, as it was as if he tuned into my restrictions and intentions, taking our relationship slower than before. Within two years, we'd married, but only because I influenced his thought pattern, the way he observes things from different angles, and the view of other human beings. All because control. I may be a Malfoy by marriage, but I'm a Black at heart. It's in my nature."

She bit on her lip, hard, until she tasted the metallic tang of blood, unsure whether she should probe more of this subject, and delve further into, most likely, dangerous territory of insulting the way Narcissa operated things. "That doesn't necessarily sound like a good thing, though."

This didn't sound like control, it was manipulation. It threw Hermione out of her comfort, and yet she found herself sort of agreeing to this idea. She wouldn't go as far as Narcissa's Slytherin strategy, which in her opinion, was quite ruthless and barbaric, despite her taste in men had the same attitude as her.

"Perhaps it isn't, but to gain a man like Lucius, that is the only way."

Cautiously broaching the question, "Was it the same with… Thomas?" She paused, wondering if she should venture into her love life. "He seems like a well-respected man, is all."

"Why yes, he is that. At some points, he was a little difficult to edge him towards the path I wished him to go; however, with a bit more steady, hard work, I had him in the palm of my hand. It was the little things — for both Thomas and Lucius — that riled them up, and caused them to follow me around like a puppy dog. You'd be more than capable than using small tricks here and there."

She was about to ask Narcissa Malfoy for tips. Of all the people she could ask like Ginny, Luna, even bloody Lavender if she really was hopeless on snatching up this man, she ended up with the least likely suspects. It wasn't too bad, in all honestly, as she was indeed a Slytherin — one of the most cunning, deceitfully clever and skilful person in mind and matter, which would give her better chances. Plus, she knew Lucius better than anyone else, besides maybe Draco, but she definitely didn't want to involve any other Malfoys'.

As for herself, she couldn't flirt with a boy or man without a bout of awkwardness. Viktor and Cormac had only been one-night dates, Ron had been a serious commitment, and after that, she'd spent some summers with a Muggle boy, whom knew nothing of her background. In the end, she hadn't needed to muster the courage to tell him, as he ditched her and got back together with his ex-girlfriend. Hermione hadn't minded; their few months romantic fling had been blissful, but she knew it wouldn't have lasted any longer.

Honestly — she wanted this boost of confidence to get back in the game, even if it required the aid of her crush's former wife.

"What exactly are these _tricks?_"

She balanced her chin on her fingers, eyes glazing in thought. "First, you need some sort of connection towards him, a way to get him alone."

The grandfather clock in the corner of the room ticked loudly, resounding off the walls, as the atmosphere between them fell into a thoughtful silence. A moment later, and Hermione suggested, "On Wednesday's he comes in to The Ministry for volunteering. That would work."

To anyone's ears, they'd think the sentence was a joke. A Malfoy, doing free volunteer work? What rubbish.

He'd only been helping out around departments from the force of the Wizarding Government; a carried-on punishment from his prison release, as a lesson to teach him how to aid others and show respect, civility — rather than treat them as servants, or anything else below his own status, like he had in the old days. Not yet had he complained, so there was some confidence that it was going smoothly.

"Yes, that would work." She tapped her manicured nail against her lips. "As I recommended before: to grab and kiss him yourself, I've instead decided that it is a bit rash at this particular time. Dragging the process out would be more suitable in these circumstances. It'll send him into a state of want, which will be much more effective, my dear. You're going to push his boundaries, challenge him."

Unable to help herself, she cocked an eyebrow. "Lucius Malfoy? Boundaries pushed? I highly doubt he'd stand for it."

"From someone he bear no interest in, yes; however, you are not that person." There was a mischievous glimmer in her eyes, as she contained a smile. Bloody Slytherin honour was beginning to shine through, the cogs in her mind working as she summoned up the pieces for her master plan. "He may get riled up, but as you stand you're ground, he'll respect you, no matter how much he doesn't want to. Besides, from what you've told me, unknowingly, you're beginning to control him."

"How?"

Ticking off each reason on her fingers, she stated, "For starters, _he _went to kiss you, not the other way around, darling. Second, he commented on your appearance —"

"Insulted, more like." Hermione interrupted with an undignified snort before lowering her eyes at Narcissa's pointed look.

"Well, yes, I suppose. Why he did it, is because he uses it to hide what he really thought of you." With a flick of her wand, the china teacups vanished, and Narcissa stood up, brushing down her neatly embroidered gown. "He hopes that, by reminding himself of your past-self, it will change the perspective he has of the image you own now."

Although she nodded, there was a persistent confusion in her mind. "And that means…?"

"You already have your claws in him, Hermione. All you have to do is dig in a little deeper."

**~.~ **

_You're going to do this, Hermione, whether you like it or not. Pull yourself together! _

With that semi-encouraging thought, she caught the flash of long, blonde hair through the glass doors, as he leant over a desk, rifling through papers. The truth was, she'd considered Narcissa's advice of discussing an interest of Lucius', like Potions, yet she hadn't thought much on how she was going to raise the subject, or how it would earn his respect exactly.

What tried to break from her, though, was the memory of their almost-kiss. She'd managed to block it, and only hoped he had to steer clear of any distractions.

Straightening her back, she pushed open the doors. _Let's do this. _


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

I am terribly sorry for such a long wait! I've been busy with my coursework, and because of ten and more new ideas coming to me, (both fanfiction and original), so it has stopped me from actually writing the chapters/updates of stories that I've thought of months ago, including this one!

Although it took me quite a while to write this chapter, and gain back my muse, I hope it is good enough to read! This chapter is _**unbeta'd,**_so if there are any mistakes, I apologise!

**_Also: _**I understand this is fast-paced, but I planned it to be that way due to the short chapters. For my other stories, the much longer ones that I'm planning/writing, (for any pairing) the relationship would be slower and a more gradual process of development. For example, I'm currently planning a **Scorpius/Albus P **multi-chap, hopefully 10 chapters maximum, so of course I'd try to stretch it out. I'm still learning!

* * *

**_CHAPTER THREE _**

* * *

.

"Needing help with something, Miss Granger?"

She stilled in the doorway, just managing to hold back the gasp of surprise. _Bloody hell! _He hadn't looked up from his work, continuing to write along rolls of parchment with light and deft flicks of his wrist, the scratchy noise filling the now silent room.

It would look like he was tending to important work to any other worker with a deep furrow in his brow and slight tension in his back as he furiously tried to finish before deadline; however, to few — including Hermione — knew part of his job was a human copier. Being allowed into the Ministry, even to volunteer as an assistant of sorts, was a privilege for him. He hadn't complained, but anyone who was familiar with Malfoy knew he'd never want the inferior status.

Narcissa had once told her of his young ambition to become involved with Magical Law. It was the most ironic thing she'd ever heard, yet so intriguing to imagine a glimpse of what his life might've been had he not chosen the different path.

He had part of that dream, she supposed, although it must've been hard. Not just from having to endure stares of hatred and scandalised whispers, but to work in the same building as his son. They were still in touch, sometimes even courteous in each other's presence, but when she'd seen them at the ball, she'd sensed a slight tension between them, as they never uttered a word or cast a glance; a false truce displayed for the sake of Narcissa.

From what she'd heard from friends, the father-son relationship between the two men had become strained, damaged, until it looked too difficult to repair. She couldn't help but feel a bit sympathetic towards Lucius.

Noticing he was eyeing her still, an inquisitive eyebrow raised, she pushed her thoughts back. "Yes," she said, striding over to his desk to slap a document on top. "I need you to copy this, fifty copies, by tomorrow morning."

Not lifting his eyes from his work, he huffed a laugh — one she wasn't sure was genuine or fake. "I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that is not going to be possible."

"And why is it not possible, may I ask?"

He looked up at her, finally, setting his quill down. It was ridiculous how a _single _look from those smouldering, silver-grey eyes could turn her into liquid. Straightening, and forcing herself not to blush, she crossed her arms, hoping the gesture implied she meant business, even though it didn't. Not at all.

A bored sigh flittered past his lips. "Your high expectations are unable to be met."

_Typical! Of course you'd resist! _"Just because you've rephrased the answer, doesn't make it any clear for me to understand – so I suggest the next one you give is _much _clearer, or we're going to have some problems."

He smirked — actually smirked; it was a small curl of the mouth, yet enough to rile Hermione up instantly, the heavy breathing starting to fill her lungs. "There's not much to comprehend, besides the fact you've asked of a unachievable deadline, fully aware of my tight schedule and prohibition to work with any other departments other than the one I work for. However, I for one am confused for a whole different reason."

This plan was turning in the other direction, the one that was beginning to make her uncomfortable. He was taking charge, and somehow, with that fantastic brain of his, was acknowledging the situation, as if he knew the motive behind it. She knew he was smart, yet not _this _much.

Swallowing around a dried throat, she choked out, "What reason is this?"

"Well, you see, even if I _had _authorisation to work within your department, you'd never allow me to do your work for you, would you? You're the girl who does her work ahead of time, I've heard, who will drive herself into exhaustion, clinging to the light at the end of the tunnel — to know you'd finally earn that gold star."

_Shit, shit, shit! _Her hands trembled at her sides, a sweat slicking her back. "I –"

He cut her off, stepping around the desk and walking towards her with slow strides, until he came to stop almost an inch away; his breath came out shallow, his gaze darkening. "So for whatever reason you've come here today, it is not for work, is it?"

"Yes — yes, of course it is." He was too close. Heat flooded her cheeks. "You're thinking ahead of yourself, Mister Malfoy."

As she went to take a step back, she bumped into something — it didn't matter what, as before she could register it, Lucius' hand had shot out and wrapped around her wrist. And when she nibbled on her bottom lip, he reached up and tugged it free from her teeth, causing her to suck in a gasp at the close proximity and intimate moment they shared.

"Am I?" He smirked. "I think you'll find it is _you _who is thinking ahead. Did you honestly believe this plan of yours would work?"

The moment the words flowed from his mouth, her heart stopped and fell to her stomach. On the outside, with her back straight and a poised look, she was confident, however inside she was screaming. "W – what?"

He'd backed her into a wall by this point, taking advantage of her fluster completely. With one hand planted on the bricks next to her head, and the other coming to grip her chin — not enough pressure to hurt, but gain her attention — he leant forward, his warm breath ghosting over her face.

_Oh God, _he had her now. How was she supposed to worm her way out of this one?

"Well, you see, why else would you become so close with my former wife?"

She managed to narrow her eyes. "Because we're… acquaintances." Partly true. They weren't exactly in the friend zone. "Is that against your rules, then?"

Holding back the shiver that licked up her spine, as his fingers tangled in her hair, he hummed — a low, rumbling sound in his chest. "Not at all. However, it's come to my attention that you and Narcissa planned this whole meet of ours. You've become so… familiar, conversing over tea. It's unusual, wouldn't you agree?"

"You just happened to receive an invitation to the ball, without your silly little sidekicks, and into my home," he continued, "a place where you'd received possibly your worst memories — so why on earth would you accept it? I'd say you were interested in something, or rather, someone."

"Well —"

A gentle tug on her hair made her shut it. "I will say this only once, Miss Granger: whatever you feel for my son needs to stop."

_Oh. My. God._

"You think I like your son?"

It boosted what she thought was confidence just hearing that, from the anxiety in her gut easing up and her breaths returning to normal. So, he wasn't the sly, quick-witted Slytherin everyone believed. Perhaps old age was getting to him and affected his once sharp and fully functional mind.

Neither of them had moved, their eyes remaining locked. "Why, yes. By understanding me as a person — as you so kindly asked that night on the balcony — you would use that information as a way to 'bond' with my son. What nonsense —"

"I don't," she quickly interrupted him. "It's… it's not him."

Several minutes passed, the air suddenly thick enough to choke on, and she waited until his eyes darkened further, realising the truth behind her strategy. "If you are lying to me, witch —"

"I'm not." There was no point in even trying. She'd lied to him before, but that was under different circumstances, seeing as they'd been ripping into each other's throats at the time with verbal abuse. If she didn't just come out with it now, it would be two steps back for her. "Why should I bother? It wouldn't change anything, you take a loathing to me anyway, so it doesn't make any difference to you."

He arched an eyebrow. She thought he'd be a bit more shocked than this — well; he didn't appear to be the slightest bit surprised, entirely relaxed. "You shouldn't assume, Miss Granger, it's unbecoming."

"Who said I was assuming? I'm right, aren't I?"

A lock of hair was tucked back into its pin, his fingers lingering at the sensitive spot of skin behind her ear. "Not very smart… not very smart, at all," he hummed. "I've hated you in the past, why of course, from your overwhelming talent and intellect, loyalty and strength… all wasted in a _Muggle-born._"

She couldn't decide what was more surprising, rendering her speechless for a second: the fact he hadn't referred to her as a Mudblood, or him — in a way — complimenting her. "What changed?"

"I suppose, despite remaining irked by your status, I find myself… intrigued by these attributes."

Of course, she expected him to not have changed his opinion towards Muggle-borns, but it hurt nonetheless, which made her feel like an idiot. She looked away. "Yes… well…"

He turned her head against, leaning in a fraction so their noses brushed against each other; the mingling scents of toothpaste and smoky wood assaulted her senses, as he said so softly it was barely audible, "I'm not a changed man, Miss Granger, but I trust you believe me when I say I'm trying."

And then she crushed her lips to his, and he returned it with an infusion of passion and dominance; it jolted her back against the wall, a feverish need beginning to heat up her blood, but before she could lose herself in the feel of him, he slowed down the kiss with light nips. "Say the word."

"What word?"

His fingers scraped the wall. "A yes or no. If you do not wish to do this, I suggest you tell me now."

"Yes," she whispered, "I want to do this."

**~.~**

Raspy, uncontrollable moans slipped past their kiss-swollen lips.

He'd sheathed himself inside her before they'd managed to fully unclothe themselves, both naked from the waist up, besides his trousers hanging low on his hips and Hermione's knickers discarded somewhere within the room.

"Mister —" Before she could finish, he thrust deep, jolting her up the desk so hard it would definitely leave bruises. It felt magnificent, her nails scarping across the polished wood. "Oh, _God._"

Bending down, he sunk his teeth into her neck, soothing over the marks with flicks of his tongue. "As much as a turn-on it would be for you to address me formally, I'd much prefer this first time we use our given names." He rolled his hips just right, causing her to whimper with need. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Even through the haze, she'd managed to cast a silencing spell and lock on the room. "Yes…" she hissed, biting down on her lip. "Lucius…"

That drove him into a harder, fiery power of need.

Cupping her backside, he titled her hips, so that each on of his drives clipped the ultra-sensitive spot within her, causing sparks to electrify the nerve-endings down her spine. This was only an experience she dreamt of. It'd been a fantasy. And now it was real. For the first time in years, she surrendered all control, losing herself in the feel of risks. He, the elder, silver-tongued serpent, had caused her to sacrifice her tightly-held — what most referred as — prudish attitude.

Of course, those who did call it that were mostly her girlfriends. She wasn't annoyed by their observations of her love life. Due to work and career ambitions, she exhausted herself far too many times. Sometimes, she would consider having just _one _night to go wild, no strings attached, but she laughed at the absurd suggestion.

It wasn't because she thought it was a bad idea, she just wasn't like that — unless she was blind drunk, but that hadn't happened yet — but she preferred the commitment side of relationships, as well as what took place within the bedroom.

He was panting, an erotic sound that she'd never believed she'd be able to draw out from a man so contained. "How long have you wanted me, witch?"

"I don't know —" She dug her nails into his back. "—quite a while."

Leaning down to kiss her, he murmured, "I've wanted you for much longer."

That coupled with the perfect roll of his hips and soft yet intoxicating kiss, she flew apart, exploding into a hundred pieces. She wailed her release, a tidal wave of elation and exquisite pleasure rippling over her body, as she clamped her legs around his waist. It was a first-time experience, to feel this unexplainable rush of sensation, on an emotional level and physical, and something she'd probably want to do over and over again.

He followed soon after, releasing a quiet groan and shuddering before collapsing on top of her — without crushing her, thank goodness — and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Sweat slicked their bodies, both panting heavily as they tried to catch their breaths.

And they stayed that way, for however long, Hermione taking the risk of running her fingers through his silky, blond hair. After a moment, she heard snoring and smiled, joining him in the depths of slumber.

**~.~**


End file.
